That crisp breeze had already done its best to keep me at home, and now it was trying to turn us back from the river, blowing fresh and crisp across the open moor and on it more than a hint of distant, cold Atlantic. We trudged, up to our ankles in soft mud, from pool to pool, with snipe springing to life just a footfall ahead, their short, sharp cries of alarm tearing the air and alerting their friends of the danger we posed, even though we meant them no harm. How could we?
No bigger than the thrush that watched us pass by its cream-covered blackthorn perch, these are splendid little birds – if only we could ever get to see them properly…
The Mayo News, 14/05/13. Read the full article ‘FISHING Which will catch the trout, worm or fly?‘.